


better whole than perfect

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Discussions of slavery, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Sex Work, Undercover Missions, angst and healing, obi-wan finally gets the (off screen) therapy he needs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: When Qui-Gon Jinn claimed Anakin Skywalker as his Padawan in front of the Jedi High Council, the bond between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan Kenobi was broken. Under another Master, Obi-Wan rises a rather unconventional Knight.





	better whole than perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Depicts Obi-Wan going undercover as an enslaved sex worker. If that's going to bother you, hit the back button.
> 
> In this universe Obi-Wan and Quinlan had an existing non-exclusive friends with benefits relationship before Quinlan took Obi-Wan as his Padawan. 
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, Aayla Secura is some years younger than in canon, as wookiepedia tells me that not only was she canonically Quinlan's Padawan at this time, they were also on a mission on Tatooine.

“I apologize Master for not supporting you before the Council,” Obi-Wan said quietly when he managed to pull himself together. “I was surprised you thought me so close to my Trials.” Qui-Gon tensed slightly at his side, hand unconsciously gripping the shoulder of the boy he’d won the right to at least place in the creche for now. “You have taught me better than to allow surprise to overcome me so, and I was remiss in my duties to you.” With that, Obi-Wan bowed, and then walked quickly away. He could feel his once-Master no more than any other Jedi in the Force. Their bond was broken. 

Obi-Wan knew the procedures well. He would have a month to find a new Master willing to complete his training. It was unlikely he would though; he knew well the stain that a repudiation left. This - renunciation in front of the whole High Council after having a probationary period on his record after Melida/Daan, after being sent to Bandomeer. No, he was unlikely to be taken in by a Master.

Feemor, Obi-Wan’s eldest Padawan-brother, always worked alone because no other Knight would partner with him, due to Qui-Gon’s repudiation over a decade ago, after Xanatos’ Fall. Despite wanting to pass on his knowledge, Feemor had decided not to select a Padawan, knowing that any Jedi he trained would be watched warily for signs that Feemor had tainted them. Obi-Wan would now be tarred with that same brush; a repudiation was very different from an orphaning after all. 

While there was no rumour of Darkness to linger over Obi-Wan, his age and degree of training would be to his detriment. A Padawan more than ten years in training should be approaching his Trials, not cut loose in favour of a new apprentice. Prospective Masters would wonder what he had done to deserve the repudiation, would speculate whether he was difficult or stupid or just wrongly chosen for training in the first place. There was a slim chance that wouldn’t have been present if there was an accusation of corruption, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if that were kinder or crueler. He had a month to reconcile himself to that, and arrange himself a future with one of the Service Corps, or leave the Order altogether.

Letting himself silently into the quarters he had shared for the last decade with his Master, Obi-Wan let out a trembling breath of dismay. Serenity, he reminded himself. He had to be outwardly perfect if there was any chance at all. Quietly, he scoffed. Perfection. Ha. He’d been attempting that since he was given the longed for chance to train at Master Qui-Gon’s side. Clearly he hadn’t managed. Swallowing thickly, he went to the data console and quickly encoded a message to his friends, letting them know that he’d been repudiated and his once Master intended to take a new Padawan. That way at least they would hear it from him, rather than through the Temple gossip network. 

Going to his room, Obi-Wan folded up his spare clothing and gathered his few belongings. Reaching out in the Force, he carefully tried a trick Quin had taught him, erasing his Force presence from the room the best he could. He couldn’t manage it as well as Quin could, but Quinlan Vos was a Knight and a Shadow, one of the highly trained intelligence operatives of the Order. Theoretically, the Shadows were Sith hunters. Until Tatooine, no one had suspected even a hint of Sith activity in nearly a millenia. A quiet chirp on his comm, and Obi-Wan swallowed again, looking at the message. Quin. Think of the devil. 

Obi-Wan smiled wryly, then typed his response. A bed in the Knights dorm was better than he had hoped. Shouldering the small pack that held all his worldly possessions, Obi-Wan headed for the door. In the threshold, he looked back, swallowing again to try and keep the tears that gathered in his eyes from falling. Maybe Qui-Gon had been right all along, and he simply wasn’t meant to be a Jedi. Blinking back tears, Obi-Wan lifted his hood to hide his face and for the last time left the rooms that had been his home. 

Quin, far more somber than usual, met Obi-Wan at the entrance to the Knights’ hall. It was rare to see the Kiffar without his mask of a smile, full mouth drawn into a thin line with quiet displeasure. They greeted one another silently, and then Quinlan laid his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and led him into the dormitory. Nearest the door was a lounge area with an array of seating options and a few data consoles and a holotable. Beyond was a small refectory, a gymnasium and row upon row of beds. Most stood empty, this housing used mainly by Knights who were rarely in Temple.

They ate in silence in the dorm refectory that night, and then Quin led Obi-Wan to his own bed and gently pushed him down into the mattress. Obi-Wan resisted for a moment, then nodded, and leaned up to pull Quin into a desperate kiss. Quin gentled the kiss, slowly licking into Obi-Wan’s mouth and pinning him down, using his slightly longer body and greater mass to hold Obi-Wan in place. Obi-Wan relaxed, fingers twisting idly in Quin’s locs as they traded slow, easy kisses. They’d slept together more than once before, but it had always been fast and fun, little more than a release despite their care for one another as friends. 

“If no one claims you by month’s end, I’ll complete your training myself,” Quin promised sleepily when they’d rubbed each other to orgasm. Obi-Wan’s heart lurched. 

“You don’t have to,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“I know, I want to,” Quin promised. 

“And Aayla?” Obi-Wan asked. Quin was besotted with the Twi’lek toddler he found on one of his early solo missions as a Knight, and they already shared a latent bond. 

“She’s four Obi,” Quin said fondly. “Five years before she’s even eligible to become a Padawan, another four after that before she ages out, and I’m pretty sure you’ll be a Knight long before then. If anything, I should ask if you’re sure. My reputation isn’t going to help yours any.” Obi-Wan scoffed quietly. 

“You know I’d do just about anything to be a Knight Quin,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Including put up with you for a few years.”

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t come to that since I haven’t a fripping clue what to do with a Padawan, but I know you’ll be a great Jedi one way or another,” Quin said, and they slowly drifted off to sleep together. They woke almost in unison come morning, and went through their routines together. When Obi-Wan knelt to meditate, Quin knelt with him, and offered his hand in silent invitation for joined meditation. Obi-Wan smiled wetly, touched by the gesture, and joined their hands. 

Quinlan’s Force presence was familiar, the two of them having grown up together. They joined in the Force easily, and let it move through and around them. Obi-Wan settled for the first time since his repudiation, reassured by his friend’s promise, by his quiet certainty that Obi-Wan could and _would_ be a Knight. The morning message check included holos from all their friends promising Obi-Wan in various ways that they believed in him. 

Obi-Wan needed the good feelings generated by their support when he read through the official message regarding his status. He had thirty days to find a new Master, and while Quin’s promise took some of the pressure off, Obi-Wan still felt a bit dejected over the whole affair. That feeling only intensified when he learned that Master Qui-Gon - no, Master Jinn now - was already bound back to Naboo with the royal delegation. And that he’d brought his theoretically creche-restricted new Padawan with him.

Not wanting to leave his friend and prospective Padawan alone, Quinlan spent the morning completing mission reports and research, and arranging his schedule so that he would be on Coruscant for the coming month. He wasn’t going to let some stupid technicality prevent Obi-Wan from finishing his training. They sparred together in the afternoon, then met up with some of their other friends who were in the Temple. Most of them were approaching their Trials, although Bant who was training as a Healer still had coursework to stay current in her chosen field. 

Despite that it would probably be frowned on by any Master who was aware of it, Quin made sure he shared his ongoing missions and research with Obi-Wan, gently involving his friend on the assumption that they would soon be bonded. They shared a bed each night, despite that there were plenty of open bunks. But Obi-Wan was clingy, needing Quinlan’s reassurances. Quin was more than happy to provide the support Obi-Wan needed, although his friend’s desperation unnerved him more than a little. 

Finally, unable to bear the quiet devastation the uncertainty was wreaking in Obi-Wan’s psyche, and despite that there was a week left before they hit the deadline, Quin gently rebraided Obi-Wan’s rather ratty looking plait, then led him before the Council and swore to raise his friend a Knight. The Council was clearly displeased, but they agreed. Usually a Knight would work alone for a few more years before claiming their first Padawan, but Quin had every right to claim as Padawan any un-Knighted Jedi that had no other obligations. 

“Honestly, I’m thinking we’ll work more or less like a Knight-pair,” Quin said when they’d been settled into their new quarters. The apartment was bare save the few treasured belongings each of them had. Over time they would accumulate more things, but Jedi weren’t terribly materialistic, collecting memories rather than objects. “And now we can host all the best parties!” Obi-Wan snorted softly at that, tossing Quin a wry look. Quinlan grinned in response, his cheeks bunching under his eyes and curving his bright yellow tattoo into an echo of a smile.

“I think you’re just happy we have a bigger bed and a door that locks,” Obi-Wan observed wryly, and Quinlan sobered immediately, striding forward and taking Obi-Wan’s hands in his.

“You know you can tell me no anytime, right?” Quin asked seriously. “I - I know everything is weird right now and you mostly just want the comfort of familiarity, but Obi - I don’t want you to think you have to obey me. Not in anything, and especially not in bed. I don’t want you to sleep with me out of obligation, only if it’s truly what you desire.”

“I - I know,” Obi-Wan said with a flush, pushing into Quin and resting his head against the Kiffar’s firm chest. “I know I can tell you no. That - that was in poor taste. I - I like sleeping with you Quin. You - you make me feel safe, and I - I really need safe right now.”

“Okay,” Quin said softly, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan. “Okay. I can do that.” Obi-Wan smiled a little, hooking his arms around Quin’s waist and sighing softly at the familiarity and comfort of being in his friend’s arms. “Rest?” Quin suggested after a little bit, and Obi-Wan nodded silently. They headed together into the master bedroom, stripped and curled into bed without needing to converse on the matter. 

Settling into life as a pair was difficult for both of them. Quin had become accustomed to working alone, and Obi-Wan was used to accommodating a very different set of quirks from his Master. The first few weeks, Obi-Wan woke before Quin and washed up, then laid out clothing and prepared breakfast for them both. He was obedient and submissive, and Quin could only put up with so much before he was ready to murder his friend’s former Master.

“Obi, come here,” Quin requested, patting the sofa at his side. Obi-Wan rose from his holotext perfect meditation pose and crossed to kneel before his new Master. “No, here,” Quin said more firmly, and pulled Obi-Wan up next to him. Gently Quin took hold of Obi-Wan’s chin and forced Obi-Wan to look him in the eye. “This stops now Obi. I am not him. I do not want your obedience or service. I do not want a perfect Padawan. I want my friend, I want my partner, okay? I understand a certain amount of deference in public, but this has gone on more than long enough, understand?”

“I - no,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Don’t you see I have to be perfect?” he asked brokenly, and Quin hugged him close, heart breaking. 

“No being is capable of perfection Obi-Wan,” Quin said gruffly. “I’m going to arrange for you to see a mind healer, okay? I - you need help Obi, and I don’t know how to help you.” Obi-Wan trembled, but nodded against Quin’s shoulder. Quin made sure they would remain on Coruscant a while longer, putting himself and Obi-Wan on instructor rotations. It helped, and so too did the appointments with the mind healers, both individually and together. They couldn’t remain in the Temple too long though. 

Quin’s skills and status as a Shadow had long had him pursuing dangerous solo missions at the edges of Republic space, darting in and out of cartels and criminal syndicates. While Obi-Wan’s training was more in diplomacy than espionage, he knew how to conduct an investigation, and was willing to learn the rest. As Quin had been on Tatooine the same time as Obi-Wan himself had, and had even seen Qui-Gon there, that was their first destination once Quin felt his new Padawan was ready for active duty. 

“So what exactly is our mission?” Obi-Wan asked as they huddled together under a pair of plain brown cloaks in the hold of an Outer Rim trader. They were sturdy material and long wearing, a bit ratty around the edges to lend the pair an air of disreputability. Obi-Wan’s hair hadn’t been cut since before the mission to Naboo, and the shaggy growth, along with a three days beard to match Quin’s, gave him quite the roguish appearance. Quin smirked. 

“Why toppling the Hutts and making slavery unprofitable in the Outer Rim, of course,” Quin said, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but goggle at his new Master. “We’re paving the way for democracy my young Padawan,” Quin said, lofting his nose in the air. Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth a half dozen times before he realized he was impersonating a guppy and snapped his jaw solidly closed. 

“I heard Master Jinn say not two months ago that the business of the Jedi was _not_ freeing the enslaved,” Obi-Wan hissed quietly. Quin smirked. 

“And that’s the official line. That’s what anyone outside of the Shadows, the Council, and a few others truly believes. And the Order is not, in fact, in the business of freeing the enslaved. We are though, in the business of rooting out corrupt and illicit practices and shedding light into dark little holes like Nar Shadda. Why do you _think_ your grandmaster is off in the Outer Rim for years at a time, leaving trails of destruction in his wake?”

“I - but - grandmaster?” Obi-Wan managed to stutter out.

“What, did you think he was really just a diplomat-Sentinel?” Quin scoffed. 

“Yes?” Obi-Wan admitted. 

“Good, that means the cover works,” Quin said with a grin. Obi-Wan sputtered silently a little longer, then just shook his head. 

“Stars Quin, I’d disbelieve you on principle if I couldn’t feel your sincerity,” Obi-Wan admitted. “So how does it work?”

“Officially, we get our work through Judicial; criminal syndicates, cartels, trafficking. Nasty business of every variety. We do the official investigation. We tear down as much as we can. And if we can knock over a Hutt or two in the process, well, all the better. We can’t go in lightsabers blazing and shouting for revolution of course, but if we can weaken the power base a bit, apply pressure in the right areas,” Quin said with a negligent shrug. “The Hutts have been retreating toward Hutt space these last few decades for a reason,” he finished with a slight smirk.

“Smug bastard,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Quin chuckled softly, snuggling Obi-Wan closer against his side. 

“We’re a few days out from Mos Espa yet, I’ll fill you in on all the particulars en route,” Quin promised, and Obi-Wan nodded, resting his head on Quin’s shoulder. Quietly, and using their bond to convey added information it was hard - or simply dangerous - to verbalize, Quinlan went over their current investigation. 

The Hutt currently in control of Tatooine had been steadily increasing the water taxes, and also the tariffs on water haulers. Both supplies of water were vital to continued existence on the desert planet, and the Jedi were committed to finding a way to break Jabba’s control of the water market. If Jabba was utterly overthrown or had his powerbase weakened in the process - well, the Jedi wouldn’t be unhappy. 

By the time the aging freighter made it to Tatooine a week later, Obi-Wan was up to date on the mission and looking appropriately disreputable. He and Quin disembarked in civilian clothing under their cloaks, lightsabers concealed; just two spacers passing through. Quietly, they talked to people and passed a few units of currency into the right hands. It was slow work, and rather thankless. Even when their leads led them from Mos Espa to Anchorhead and then to Mos Eisley, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel they weren’t really making any progress. The ways of talking, of dealing with others in the shadowy underworld Quinlan frequented were unfamiliar to Obi-Wan, who was used to rather more diplomatic negotiations.

Slowly though, Obi-Wan learned the Huttese that was used more than Basic this far out from Galactic Center; he’d studied it in the Temple, but the actual usage wasn’t quite the same as it was presented in a class, and so he hung back and let Quin talk for the most part, and kept his ears open. He also brushed off his Mando’a after seeing three different bounty hunters in armour inspired by if not copied directly from Mando beskar’gam. 

In the end, they were on Tatooine long enough for Obi-Wan to grow rather proficient in Huttese, and for his hair to grow nearly to his chin. For all that, Obi-wan wasn’t entirely certain how much progress they’d made, or if they’d made any at all. Quin seemed to take it in stride, but Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a little as if they’d been given such a long and unsatisfying mission to keep him and his embarrassment away from the Temple.

Almost as soon as they did return to Coruscant, they were shipping back out again. Quin added his own braid next to the one Obi-Wan still wore in honour of his previous training in the interim though, tied off with a band of yellow silk floss. The next few months, they ghosted from one seedy cantina to the next, quietly gathering information. Obi-Wan had been Quin’s Padawan for over a year when they ran into their first truly uncrackable case. Or at least, uncrackable in their current guises.

“I have an idea,” Obi-Wan said, gnawing at his lower lip.

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” Quin asked, twisting slightly to look at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was tucked against Quin’s back, gently rolling Quin’s locs to neaten them and oiling his scalp. Caring for one another calmed them both, and Quin would often brush Obi-Wan’s hair in turn. With a shrug, Obi-Wan shook his head. 

“If I shave, I would guess I look at least five years younger,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and Quin could hear the nerves in his voice. “I’ve been working this beat with you long enough I know how to stand, and I already knew how to dance. Put me in something revealing and a collar, and no one will look at who’s holding my leash. They’ll just see a pretty bed slave.”

“Yup, that’s a terrible idea,” Quin growled. “Do you know how dangerous it is for pleasure slaves?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “I’ve been your Padawan for over a year now _Master_ , and I’d already seen my share of the underbelly of the Republic before that. I - I know I would be in danger. But it’s a danger I’m willing to accept Quin. I know you’ll do your best to protect me, but people talk around bed slaves ways they won’t around outsiders.”

“Kriff this is a _terrible_ idea,” Quin moaned, but they could both hear quite clearly that he wasn’t saying ‘no.’ It was an idea he disliked, an idea that put Obi-Wan in immense danger. And it was an idea that might quite possibly allow them to crack this case wide open. “Frip,” Quin breathed. “Alright. We do this, we do it as safe as we can. You _will_ wear a subdermal implant. Frankly, it would be stranger for a slave to _not_ be chipped. You speak as little as possible because I know you, and I know that your mouth makes promises your ass can’t credit. And frankly, you better accept before we get out the door that I’m going to have to do some pretty terrible things to you while you’re under. I can probably get away with being possessive of a slave as pretty as you, but you shouldn’t be surprised if we end up having very public sex.” Obi-Wan nodded, eyes glittering with determination. “Kriff I hate this plan,” Quin grouched, then leaned in and kissed Obi-Wan gently. “You really sure you can handle this?”

“I can handle anything as long as you keep the bond open,” Obi-Wan said softly, and kissed Quin again. 

“I will,” Quin promised. “Alright. Let’s go find you some costuming. And some hair dye. Your natural colour is way too rare to be anywhere near safe for a pleasure slave. We need to dull you down a bit, and even then you’ll still be the prettiest thing anyone on this rock has ever seen.” Obi-Wan flushed a little, but he’d gotten much better at accepting compliments since they were paired together. 

A few hours later, Quin sauntered into a cantina with Obi-Wan at his heel. Every sentient in the room stopped and stared. Obi-Wan’s hair had grown long since he became Quin’s Padawan, and had been trimmed a bit as well as dyed so it fell around his shoulders in silky chestnut waves. Additional thin plaits had been braided in to disguise his Padawan braids, and likewise finished with glittering beads and jingling bells. All Obi-Wan wore was a thick leather collar, leather bottoms little better than a jock strap, and strings of golden bells around his waist, ankles and wrists. 

Quin sat and called for a drink as though he hadn’t noticed that every being in the room was ogling Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan sank gracefully to his knees at Quin’s feet, and Quin’s fingers were soon playing with his hair, tugging gently so he had to tip his chin up, displaying the bites and hickeys that ringed his throat and dotted his shoulders. Obi-Wan let himself be moved as Quin desired, keeping his body loose and his eyes slit, cataloguing the locations and descriptions of all the other patrons. 

“That slut for rent?” someone called from the dimness at the periphery of the room. 

“You can’t afford him,” Quin growled without raising his voice, then pulled Obi-Wan into a painful looking arch so he could take his mouth in a brutal kiss. Obi-Wan mewled against Quin’s mouth, silently passing information through their bond even as he struggled with his unexpected desire. The barkeep came over to negotiate after a while, and Quin, in character, haggled Obi-Wan’s rates - dancing only though. Obi-Wan absolutely wouldn’t be fucked by anyone but his ‘Master.’

For the next week, Obi-Wan was the chief attraction at the Blue Moon, moving to the pulse of the cantina band. He made quite a few credits dancing on the bar, and in the back room, where he gave private lap dances to the richer criminals, he overheard more than a few leads for Quin to track down. Some of them tried to take more than a lap dance of course, they saw no reason not to assault a pleasure slave. When they did though, they generally found themselves at the end of Quin’s blaster. Word got around after the first two or three times. Don’t touch the pretty bed slave.

It took longer than either of them would have liked, and a half dozen instances of public sex in the cantina, but eventually they had what they needed. Obi-Wan returned to the Temple with hair almost as long as Quin’s and a bright yellow tattoo that traversed the width of his lower back. It would mean little and less to one not conversant in the culture of Kiffu. To one who understood though, it clearly labelled him a consort of a Vos of the ruling bloodline. Such possessiveness perhaps went against the Jedi Code, but Quin had already solemnly sworn that even when Obi-Wan was Knighted, something he expected to happen shortly, they would continue as paired Knights if that was what Obi-Wan desired. Obi-Wan had eagerly agreed.

They only went on one more mission before Quin wholeheartedly recommended his Padawan and partner for his trials. Obi-Wan’s skills had never been in question, at least in Quinlan’s opinion. Rather, it had been Obi-Wan’s confidence that had needed work. Quinlan’s respect, his willingness to listen to his partner’s suggestions, and his unfailing desire to simply be at Obi-Wan’s side had done what praise never could. Obi-Wan had allowed himself to trust that he would be listened to, cared for, protected. He had blossomed, and so a year and a half, more or less, after he had feared his life was over, his dreams dashed, he became a Jedi Knight.

As Quin had promised, he immediately requested that he and Obi-Wan remain a working pair. Their successes since the formation of their partnership were all the argument Quin needed. They worked well together, and if part of that was due to the fact that they had a very enjoyable sex life - well, what the Council didn’t know for sure wouldn’t hurt them. The Council gave their approval of the pairing, and a mission to boot. Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly surprised when the dossier had all the markings of their previous ones, Shadow missions. He might be a Guardian trained mostly as a Consular, but he was a Shadow now too.


End file.
